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Hundreds of thoughts were storming my
brain. The night head already spread out it's
cloth above the landscape. The willage of
Clinton Island with it's appreximately 200
inhabitance lays peacarful in the valley. Not
giving a hint to the terrible past of it's
inhabitance. Still I had not found a wife. And
once again I was captured by thoughts from
the hidden past right...
...OUT OF NOWHERE
Here I am at a standstill
No move I'm biding time
Desultoriness in my proceedings
Cought by her spell I'm coming
Out of Nowhere
May wounds be sutured without scars?
Out of Nowhere
Hatred to nurture?! So damned you are!
Still we live in the world
We're judged by the colour of skin
Plated with silver and gold
The radical changes in fits of spleen
And now more and more fed
With depressions backed
We're crying but nobody hears
Coming out!
Now I see I'm blind!
Out of Nowhere